Category: prose
-
10.24: MicroDosing 130µg
Walking Westport The sea breaks inches from where I stand. It’s a cannon’s rush on my ears. A tempest. The sound of purgatory. We’re walking fast along wet sand, the tide pushing us faster, the beach is paper-flat and straight into the west sky. We’re barefoot. Mum says it’s good for the arches of our…
-
22.10: A Six – The Book of 27
24 – Briarthrest: The restlessness that follows after healing Of All the Goodbyes Brigid stands in the doorway of a house she once called hers. Behind her: packed books, a pair of curtains that never quite fit the windows, two chipped mugs (left not in carelessness, but filled with gratitude and the faint spice of…
-
22.10: Briarthrest – The Liturgy
24 of 27: Briarthrest – The restlessness that follows after healing I. After the Breaking:It doesn’t come while you’re breaking.It comes afterward,the moment you find yourselfunmoored from ache. It’s not the wound.Not the grief,but a chair empty at the table.You learned to eat alone.You stopped setting a place. II. After the Healing:It is what the…
-
22.10 MicroDosing 70 µg
Floriography She went barefoot into the brittle garden, the earth creaking like old knees. Dandelion nodded its tired gold; yarrow whispered of stubborn hearts. She bent and gathered what still offered itself: Queen Anne’s Lace, sage, a handful of seed, an autumn-washed grape leaf. From a chipped jug she poured moonwater, murmured gratitude to the…
-
21.10: A Six – The Book of 27
25 of 27: Glintmere – The Hesitant Harmony:A Moment of Hesitant Harmony: a road trip with my sister My sister drove with a headmistress’s composure, the silence between us taut as piano wire — until she muttered, low and dry, “You always sold more Girl Scout cookies to Mr. Murray than I did,” and I…
-
18.10: MicroDosing 50 µg
The Gentlest Stalker The past is a quiet stalker. It walks beside you in the supermarket. A breath. A faint chill as you reach for peaches. It sits beside you, a silhouette you never quite see, but always feel. It’s the ghost of who you were, keeping pace with who you are. Written for Microdosing: 50µg…
-
17 Oct: A Six Sentence Story
Carrying the Weight The old man carried the village’s silence up the mountain each morning. Not in a sack, but in the hollow humming of his throat. It was the weight of unmade decisions, and need left unsaid. At the summit, he’d open his mouth, and let the wind take it all. The valley below…
-
15.10: MicroDosing 50 µg
Paint It Black He didn’t paint the void; he painted its memory. Like hollows left when a star collapses. Or silence after a string snaps. The shape of breath frozen midair. He mixed not pigment, but absence — until the canvas was but a door. And from the other side, something began to knock. Written…
-
14.10: A Six – The Book of 27
23 of 27 — Wraithborne: A Glance Mistaken for Something Else The Taste of Almost Brigid notices the smudge first — a violet-ash on her teacup’s rim, still warm, the shape of a thumbprint, the weight of an unfinished thought — and this would mean nothing, except she lives alone, and has done for many…
-
13.10: Wraithborne – The Liturgy
23 of 27 – Wraithborne: A glance mistaken for something else The Liturgy for Wraithborne I. The GlanceNot a ghost — just time’s stutter,a flicker where the light bends wrongand suddenly, you’re staringat a face you almost lovedin a life you almost lived.Wraithborne grins.You blink.The crow swallows the evidence. II. Its ColourAsh-lit violet is the…
It's Still Life 